[voice, then video and then maybe action?] Falling Down

[cerebroshellshocked]

....help......

[Voice first, quiet and strained.  After a moment, the feed switches to video, panning around the small room Ironfist's been using as a workshop.  It's littered, now, with broken bits of metal and cloth, that may look suspicious like Liege Maximo's Acolytes.  They look as though they've been...exploded somehow. ]


Please. I couldn't stop myself.

I'm bad.  

My head.

It's...

[The feed cuts, abruptly.]

((OOC: People involved in the Ironfist takedown, let's do it! Also, anyone else is welcome to respond, too.))

Comments

[Action]

[maxicpolarity]

That is the nature of the chaotic.

[Truly, the fact that you have become so destructive is a testament to its strength. He pauses at the body of one Acolyte, kneeling, inspecting the wounds it has, curious because they do not seem to have come from any weapon he's seen before.]

How did you do this?

[Action]

[cerebroshellshocked]

But we're not supposed to be about chaos. Autobots are about order and peace.

[Ironfist squirms back against the wall, as though trying to get away from himself.]

...deterrence chips. [His fingers brush the small gun at his side, almost nervously.]

[Action]

[maxicpolarity]

[Liege looks up from the Acolyte, his sharp, green gaze falling on Ironfist.]

That may be, but you...

You are an Autobot, no more.

[His fingers probe the wound, finding the scant remnants of the chips that have been mentioned, and he nods, standing.]

You belong to him, now.

And I am here to stop this. If there is anything left within you, Ironfist...

Give me your weapon. [He turns, and approaches slowly, a hand out.]

[Action]

[cerebroshellshocked]

But I've always been an Autobot. Well, as soon as there were Autobots.

[Part of his cortex wants to start a tangent about the meaning of Autobot and the first Prime under which it was officially recognized. He stops himself, through exhaustion mostly.]

Him? Who's him?

[The blue optics shimmer, as though he's fighting something, and the gun trembles in his hand as he lifts it, holding it out.]

.... _{I used to make guns, you know.....}

[Action]

[maxicpolarity]

Unicron.

[He says the word ominously, watching those blue optics as they shimmer, knowing there was not much of this one left but impressed at how he fought...how strongly he fought.]

Tell me about them...?

[He crouches in front of Ironfist, and reaches to take the gun, ready to react should this go awry.]

[Action]

[cerebroshellshocked]

[The word means nothing to him, but there's something deep inside him, like some sort of thin filament, like a thread-thin worm, that writhes that the name.]

[The world seems to lurch around him, and his free hand grabs for the floor as though trying to stabilize himself.]

I used to, I started in ballistics. Before the war. I think you learn everything about a gun if you learn it that way. [He sounds exhausted, his fingers slowly releasing the gun into the other's hands.]

[Action]

[maxicpolarity]

Hands on experience. That is invaluable.

[As he takes the gun, carefully, he adheres it to his back, hooking it to a magnetic clasp while drawing forth one of his spears instead. He did promise that this would be the end for Ironfist, if the other so willed it.

He does not strike yet, however.

Instead, he considers what Martha said to him, and gently lays a clawed hand on Ironfists's shoulder.]

Is there anything that you wish to be remembered, when you are gone?